Soft and Cuddly
by TheGingeryOne
Summary: There are many indignations that one must face to be a part of Count Bleck's Army, and that includes the occasional moment of utter, drink fuelled insanity.


Soft and Cuddly

_18/07/2012_

To some extent, the master of dimensions could handle the ridiculous façades of camaraderie that Count Bleck's Army projected like a badly designed powerpoint. When they were having their delightful little meetings, a mask of sincerity was allowed to be paper thing, any vile insult and admission of treachery put down to childish, teasing nature. In the field, it didn't even require that. A simple sentence of loyalty would do.

But when O'Chunks had decided to bring out his secret stash of highland whisky that somehow sparked Count Bleck to produce his collection of fine wine...

Well. If Dimentio didn't need these idiots for his plan, he would have sent them on a gruesome trip to the Underwhere. It was just so tempting to treat himself to a homicidal spree for _not_ killing everyone in the room. Jaydes only knew how this had happened.

It had started when he'd flipped in, ready to receive whatever order the dear count or his silly assistant had prepared, only to find them in a state of uncommon joy. O'Chunks and Count Bleck were singing. Alright, in _theory_ they were singing, because the noise that their throats produced was closer to some unholy cake mix of laughter and gross sobbing than anything remotely musical. Under the Scotsman's arm, Nastasia was trying to regain control of the situation and her dignity, which would have been easier if it wasn't for the whisky in place of her clipboard. Even the Overthere's greatest scholars couldn't have worked out what Mimi was doing- perhaps some sort of dance made for summoning Bonechill into the world?

For a moment, Dimentio had just floated there, mouth agape at the display of drink fuelled, emotional idiocy.

And then Mr. L had made his appearance, tackling him down and thrusting a vat of the drinks into his palm. The brainwashed man was, like the rest of them, drunk. He was swaying. He was singing.

He was almost certainly going to be dead by the end of the evening if he did not stop trying to get the pleaser of crowds to ingest some of the poison. The plumber had flung his arms around Dimentio's scrawny neck, a bottle of whisky in his hand as he tried to remove the mask, coaxing it into his mouth. The magician sputtered, kicking furiously and deeply regretting his lack of physical strength at present.

If _only_ he didn't need Mr L for the prophecy. Then he'd show him where to stick his drinking-

"Mr L, if you don't get that away from me, I will be forced to- eeaah!" The tiny man screamed as he suddenly felt a pair of hands grabbing him up and crushing him against the count's wine stained cape. His mask had been set askew, while Count Bleck's hat had seemingly been taken up by Nastasia. The man was grinning like a cat that got the cream- or a cat that got a particularly unlucky mouse. His breath was hot, though the smell alone was making the masked magician was to retch. How much had he had!

The Count seemed pleased with his new cuddle toy, ignorant to the angry growls and little legs kicking at him, instead holding him closer with each passing second. O'Chunks was still 'singing' with the assistant and Mimi...was doing something that the pleaser of crowds didn't think was physically possible. Mr L seemed to be enjoying the show, grinning lazily at him with the occasional whistle.

Count Bleck kept hugging tighter. "Dim-Dimenti...Aw, nuts. Dimmy!" He declared, shoving their faces close and gassing the smaller man. "I...I just wanna let you know...I...I love you...declared Count Bleck."

What.

The Count gave a great sweep of his arms, calling the unfathomable power of the void forth to initiate a group hug, crushing Dimentio between O'Chunks, Mr. L and Mimi. The plumber was still grinning, but O'Chunks really took the cake by grabbing up everyone is his enormous arms.

"Ack, Blecky! Is great to 'ave knoon ye! I jess- jest love all ye mad gits."

Dimentio's mask fell to the floor with a crack, exposing his rapidly blue shading face. Bones cracked.

Not that anyone noticed. The master of dimensions was beginning to reconsider his plan- maybe all he needed was to get everyone sufficiently drunk enough to eliminate any obstacles in his path...

Perhaps it was due to the death grip that O'Chunks was inflicting upon the group, or the fumes from whatever they had been drinking in the air, but Dimentio felt faint. His vision swum.

There was only one thought before he slipped into unconsciousness.

But it had a bad word, so it can't be repeated.

Breathing, even if it filled Dimentio's head with potent smells, was a relief. The grip that crushed the life out of his lungs was gone, replaced with the more comfortable weight around his torso. Alright, so he hurt like hell and he was fairly certain that this little detour would set back the plan, but it was a relief to be free of the suffocating sensation. Besides, this position was comfortable- a soft and cuddly pillow, a warm feeling over his chest...

Wait...

Dimentio opened his eyes, feeling the red flush his cheeks as he realised exactly _where_ he was and _what_ he was doing.

At some point, he'd decided to use Count Bleck as a pillow, alongside Nastasia, with the man idly resting his hands on both their heads. Mimi rested a bit further up, leaning against the Count's side with her arms wrapped around him. O'Chunks snored, one arm draped across Nastasia and the other one over Count Bleck's shoulders.

Dimentio turned his head slightly, catching sight of the green cap behind him. Right. So he'd been demoted to teddy bear by The Green Thunder. Count Bleck's hand moved, mumbling out a word and dishevelling his hat.

The master of dimensions twitched. In Jaydes name, what exactly had lead them to this scenario? Him, sleeping with the despised count and these idiots...

He huffed, shifting to try and escape the prison of drunk affection. Mr L gripped tighter, mumbling about something nonsensical. Count Bleck's eyes occasionally fluttered open...though given that he swiftly knocked Dimentio's hat off his head, he doubted that the usually debonair man was awake.

"Ugh..." Alright, maybe that had been a misjudgement. The man's eyes opened fully, squinting in the meagre light before catching sight of the magician's own mismatched pair. "Dimentio?"

"And so he awakes like a baby who is sick. Yes, my count?" He didn't bother to mask the annoyance in his face and voice, still twitching as the count tried to recall every bit of himself. He hadn't bothered to remove his hand, leaving it atop the magician's head. "It seems rather early for you to be awake, said Count Bleck."

The magician huffed. His neck hurt. Actually, most of him hurt, because O'Chunks had seemingly channelled all of his brainpower into using hugs as a deadly weapon. "I wasn't aware."

The man seemed to think for a moment, idly brushing his hair. As much as he hated to admit it, it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. Quite nice, actually... "Count Bleck thinks it would be a shame to wake them." He said finally, still tangling through the strands. He could feel his eyes closing. "Why don't you go back to sleep, Dimentio?"

There was a snore.

"Dimentio?"

Count Bleck looking down, only to find that the sociopathic jester had snuggled down into his cape, eyes shut and face relaxed. He seemed younger. The count smiled, leaning back and closing his own eyes.

One day, they would pay for this night of indignation. But, in Dimentio's sleep glazed thoughts, that could come when the Count stopped being soft and cuddly.

Besides, the hangovers may be punishment enough.


End file.
